


What can the moon do for the sun?

by ninja_girlfriend



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_girlfriend/pseuds/ninja_girlfriend
Summary: Carry On Countdown 2019. Day One: Sun/Moon.In which Baz feels unworthy, but what else is new?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	What can the moon do for the sun?

**_You be the sun,_ **

**_I'll be the moon-_ **

**_just let your light_ **

**_come shining through;_ **

**_and when night comes,_ **

**_just like the moon,_ **

**_I'll shine the light_ **

**_right back to you._ **

**_-Unknown_ **

_What can I say that hasn’t been said to you before?_

I stand by the door, clutching the handle, halfway into my room. Snow is in his bed, the covers up to his chin, seething, crying, smoking, the whole theatrics. A normal person would walk out immediately to avoid being blasted into space; a normal vampire would hide for dear life to avoid being turn into ashes. I am neither of those, and so I step into the room and lay on my bed, mirroring his position. Snow is ugly crying, snot and all, and his clothes are a mess of dirt and drool on the floor. The smell of Bunce still present (probably left about ten minutes before I arrived).

He’s clutching onto the side of the pillow. More often than I’d like to admit to myself have I imagined this scenario. Me soothing Snow, _helping him._ Running a hand through his hair with his head in my lap until he fell asleep and could finally rest from the weight on his shoulders.

Instead, I lay here, accompanying him as he goes through everything on his own. He watches me first, still crying, I stare back and breathe in slowly then out just as smoothly, trying to convey everything through one look. It seems as though he’ll say something, but thinks better of it and closes his eyes. I wait, breathing, as he begins to copy my rhythm. We lay like this until he’s no longer smudged around the edges and he’s no longer smoking. Until he stops crying and his face is no longer creased. I wait until I hear him breath normally, until I’m certain he’s sleeping and I slip out of the room.

_What can I do that hasn’t already been done for you?_

Snow eats like a pig. No, like a starved pig. Every day at breakfast he gets his plate stacked with pancakes, muffins, and thousands of sour cherry scones. Then tea with another mountain of scones. Then roast beef for dinner with another hundred scones. Today he’s had four. Four scones and one cup of tea, _no butter_. This doesn’t go unnoticed by his loyal sidekick and bride-to-be of course, but nothing seems to help. He’s been this way since the day I found him in our room being a blubbering mess within his covers.

He seemed better that morning, but apparently not as good as I hoped. He’s also coming back terribly late. At this rate I won’t even need to plot a way to end him, he’ll do it himself. He seems distant during the Minotaur’s class, more than usual I mean. Then, when he gets scolded by Miss Possibelf he barely bats an eyelash. He always has this glossed look now, like he’s not actually there.

On the fifth day, I pull some strings with Cook Pritchard and get a full platter of scones and a tub of butter. I leave them on his bed before our last class and stay out as late as I can so he can have the room for himself. I don’t know if he’ll eat them, especially coming from me, but I couldn’t stand by anymore and watch him wither away.

When I get back to the room he’s sleeping, his back facing me. The platter of scones on my desk, now empty, with a note over it written in the most horrific handwriting: _Thank you._

_What can I give you that you haven’t already received?_

It’s been a week since the scones, since Snow wrote a meaningless note to me and I kept it with me at all times as if my life depended on it. He’s been eating better, his sleeping scheduled is still nonexistent but at least he’s filling up again. The Mage came back yesterday and we finally got some details of the mission that sent Snow into a spiral. There had been goblins involved, a whole family in fact. That didn’t stop Robin Hood from having Simon decapitate the father and set their house on fire. It certainly didn’t stop him from telling Simon, after the fact, that the rest of the family was inside and fortunately, there had been no survivors.

Everyone congratulated him for stopping a supposed attack from the Humdrum. Everyone but Bunce and Wellbelove. They couldn’t fill Snow’s schedule with more activities to keep his mind off of it even if Bunce created a spell to add more hours into the day. They took him from the library to the Weeping Tower, they even came to the pitch once or twice. They made over the top picnics and showered him with reassuring words. They spent hours pointlessly tutoring him and helping with his homework. Snow seemed… functional, at the least.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” Snow is like a child, asking ‘are we there yet?’ every couple of steps. I turn to give him my best glare to shut him up once more and continue walking through the Wavering Wood, pulling him behind me, his warm hand wrapped on my cold one.

“Are you taking me to my gravesite? Is that it? Were all those nice things you did for me just so I could let my guard down and lure me into my certain dead?” He grips my hand once, but continues to follow me.

“Nice things? I don’t recall ever being _nice_ before, Snow. Specially, not to you. However, this is not about your imminent demise, I can promise you that.”

“Too bad.” I wouldn’t have been able to hear him if not for my vampire abilities. I stop dead in my tracks and turn my body fully to look down at him, his eyes not meeting mine. “I’m joking, Baz.” I didn’t even need to say it, he knew. He knew why I stopped, what his words meant and he wasn’t joking. I gripped his hand tighter and walked faster to our destination.

As we finally arrive at our destination I guide Snow to three long rocks sticking out from the ground. “Graves.” He says.

“When my mother died, the school placed a plaque in the catacombs to honor her and her death within school grounds. She’s not actually buried there, there was nothing to burry, but it’s the closest thing to a grave.” I don’t know if this is helping or if maybe I just made it worse and Snow is about to go off and take me with him, but he’s not stopping me so I continue, “I like to think of that as her resting place, since she never actually got one and I thought…” I look over at Simon and pull out a piece of paper. “They had names, I figured you’d want to know. Maybe give them a resting place of their own.”

Simon stares at the piece of paper in my hand like it’ll suddenly jump and eat him. “The tombstones are blank, you can fix that if you want.” I pull out a chisel and put both objects on Simon’s hand, the one I was holding.

Snow drops to his knees and weeps as he writes their names. I sit beside him and wait until his done engraving them, then placing them, then crying once more. We stand in front of them a hold a minute of silence.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

Snow stands still and for a moment I think he might break down again, but as always, he does the unexpected. My mind short-circuits as his arms wrap around my waist. I forget how to breathe, and my heart feels like it will beat out of my chest.

“Thank you.” He breathes into my shoulder as I finally wrap my arms around him.


End file.
